Teenager
by christylee
Summary: COMPLETED! Ethan has changed. He and Veruca are best friends, fully immersed in the Gothic subculture. One night, a chance meeting with former friends has them questioning their place in the suburban world, and the deepest meaning of To thine own self be
1. Chapter 1

_If you are reading this, it means I finally have electricity in my house again. Yippee! I promised myself I would celebrate the return of electricity by beginning to post this story._

_It's been a rough seven and a half days, but not as bad as it could have been. Thank God I still have a roof over my head! And it has also been a blessing that the weather has been extremely mild._

_As for this story, I am calling it Teenager, since it is inspired by the Better Than Ezra song of the same name. It is not strictly a song-fic, but I will call it a "song-inspired-fic." The lyrics are below, all credit to the wonderful, talented Kevin Griffin._

_I do not own the lyrics to Teenager, I do not own Kevin Griffin, or Lizzie McGuire, or Ethan or Veruca or any of the other characters in this story, except a few OC's that are not really that important. I DO own my wonderful little laptop computer and my own imagination. And more than happy with both._

_BTW, I am rating this story M for strong language. "Darn, heck and freakin'" just didn't sound real for this story. _

_This story is already completed, nine chapters long, and I will be releasing it slowly, one or two chapters a week during the month of November, while I am otherwise occupied writing my NaNo._

_Good luck and best wishes to everyone who participates in NaNo! For those who are about to write, I salute you!_

_And now on with the story! But first, the inspiration song:_

-

-

**TEENAGER**

-Kevin Griffin

Listen to them fight  
Hear your mother cry  
Weekend at your dad's  
They don't know what they do to you  
Teenager

Wrap yourself in black  
Listen to The Cure  
Love line won't call back  
They don't know  
They don't care  
They don't see  
But I do

And if it feels good, do it  
Cause if it tastes fine, drink  
Well, there's a range of possibilities to find  
Teenager, Teenager

No one knows your name  
No one hears your cry  
Fall in with the fringe  
Cause they know what you're going through  
They do

And if it feels good, do it  
Cause it if tastes fine, drink  
Well, there's a range of possibilities to find  
Teenager, Teeanger

No one's wrong  
No one's right  
It comes down on you  
I have found your life  
Inside mine

Hear your mother cry  
Fade into the night  
And when they ask you why  
They won't know  
They won't feel  
They won't see  
But you will

And if it feels good, do it  
Cause if it tastes good, drink  
Well, there's a range of possibilities to find  
Teenager, Teenager

-

-

"Hello, is Lizzie there? Tell her it's Ethan. Ethan Craft."

Ethan hung on the phone line, listening to Lizzie's brother scream her name throughout the house. He tapped his foot nervously, glanced in his bedroom mirror, smoothing down his jet black hair. The blue highlights were fading. He would have to have Veruca do them again. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, all he could think about was the possibility of hearing Lizzie's sweet voice on the other end of the phone.

In a moment though, he was talking to Matt again. "Well, it turns out that Lizzie's not home after all," Matt announced, and Ethan knew he was lying.

"Well, okay, dude. Thanks anyway. Listen, tell her I called. Tell her it's about the homework. Tell her to call me, okay?"

"Sure," Matt said. "Later, dude."

"Yeah. Later."

Ethan hung up the phone, hissing "Fuckl!" Foiled again! Why wouldn't Lizzie talk to him? There was a time she would have climbed mountains just to hear him say hello. What had changed?

He looked in the mirror again, at his pitch black hair with fading blue highlights, his Cradle of Filth tee shirt, his chains and piercings.

Oh, yeah. That's right. He had changed.

Ethan cursed again, then turned up Marilyn Manson on the stereo. He rummaged in the back of his sock drawer until he found the joint he'd been hiding in the jock strap left over from his days of organized sports. He put the joint deep in the front pocket of his oversized black pants, looked out his bedroom window at the red Corvette parked at the curb and cursed again.

"Fuck! Dad! What are you doing here so fuckin' early?"

But he already knew the answer to that question. Dad was here to torment Mom, to argue about alimony and child support, to rub it in her face that her boyfriend was history, but Bonnie was still with him. Ethan grabbed his knapsack and rushed out of his room, still cursing.

"Hey, Dad!" he called cheerily, coming down the long hallway. "Dad! What's up? Hey! Great weekend planned, huh?"

"Hello, Ethan," Dad said, once again running his eyes up and down his son's tall frame. It had been almost a year since the transformation, but Dad had still not gotten used to it and probably never would.

Ethan looked across the room at his mother. Her face was red and she was trying her hardest to hold back her tears in front of her son. Ethan glared at his father and hated him.

"Well, then, let's go," the elder Craft said. He glanced contemptuously at his ex-wife. "So long, Helen," he said bitterly, and Helen Craft jumped up from the couch and ran down the hall, sobbing.

Ethan looked at his father and sighed. "Dad," he said, "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Dad asked defensively. "I don't do anything. She does it to herself. And what's it to you, anyway?"

"I've got to live with her, Dad!"

"Not this weekend you don't. Come on. Let's go."

Ethan followed his dad out of the house and down to the red Corvette waiting at the curb. God! Ethan hated this car. He threw himself in the front seat, hoping nobody he knew would see him in it.

Dad ran around to the driver's side and slid in, easily revving up the motor. The stereo began to blast smooth jazz. Ethan pulled a CD out of his knapsack and began to insert it into the player.

"No way, mister," Dad said without hesitation. "None of that death metal in this car."

"Oh, Dad, come on! I can't take this _jazz_crap!"

"It's a short drive," Dad said, pulling the car into the street. "You'll live."

They drove for a few moments in silence, then Ethan said, "So, old man. What's the plan?"

"Well, actually, Bonnie and I are going out tonight," Dad began

"Of course," Ethan replied dryly.

"So I was just going to drop you off at the apartment. Unless there's somewhere else you'd like to go."

Ethan knew this was going to happen, as it did every weekend, and he had his answer ready. "Sure," he said. "You can drop me at Veruca's house, over in Whispering Oaks. She and I were hoping to go to a concert tonight."

"Sounds great!" Dad smiled, glad to be relieved of the responsibility of caring for his teenage son. "That Veruca, she's the red headed girl, right? The one that might be really pretty if she would just lose a little weight?"

"Dad," Ethan said impatiently. "Veruca is beautiful. And it has nothing to do with her hair or her weight. God! Sometimes you're so shallow."

Dad smiled sarcastically. "So…" he mused. "Veruca is beautiful, huh? What is she now…your girlfriend?"

"No," Ethan said flatly. "Just because I say a girl is beautiful doesn't mean she's my girlfriend. Veruca's like my best friend ever. We really connect, you know what I mean?"

"Sure, sure, that's great. But you do have a girlfriend, right? I mean, you're not…funny that way, are you?"

"Dad, you ask me this every timed I see you, and the answer is still the same. No, I am not gay. Yes, I get plenty of action. Don't worry, your genes did not produce a defective son."

"Just checking," Dad said. "With you teenagers, one never knows. You seem to change so quickly."

Once again he glanced over, and Ethan could tell Dad was looking at his eyebrow piercing. "Yes, Dad. This is new. I had it done last Sunday. You like?" he asked with a crooked smile, knowing his Dad would hate it.

Dad said nothing but continued driving. Ethan just laughed quietly to himself.

They reached Veruca's house in beautiful Whispering Oaks, and Dad brought the Corvette to a screeching halt in front of the two story brick house with a porch swing out front.

"So," Dad said. "You have the key to my apartment, right? What time do you think you might be in?"

"Not sure," Ethan said. "The concert could go long, way past midnight for sure."

"You got a ride home?"

"Always," Ethan said. "I got friends."

"Well, I'll see you later then," Dad said. "Unless I don't. Bonnie and I may spend the night at her house. If you need me, you know my cell.'

"Sure, Dad. Check you out later. Hey, thanks for the lift."

A moment later Dad spun the Corvette away from the curb, leaving Ethan in its dust. Ethan watched the red car disappear down the street. Dad was such a trip. Since the divorce, Ethan barely saw him anymore. And that was probably best for both of them.

-

Ethan walked up the flower- lined front path, and rang the doorbell. From inside he heard Veruca's mother calling, "Veruca, dear! That must be Ethan!"

"Got it, Mom!"

A moment later Veruca stood before him in the open doorway, grinning.

Ethan grinned back. "Hey!" he laughed. "You did it. You really did it. It looks so cool!" He came forward to give Veruca a big hug, then pulled her back to look more closely at her long red hair. Veruca's hair had always been red, of course, but a sort of a carrot top red. This color now was more…scarlet, a deeper and brighter red than Ethan had ever seen before.

"Can you tell?" Veruca asked, spinning around.

"Hell, yeah, I can tell. It looks great!"

"I figured if I was going to be the girl with the long red hair, I ought to be the girl with the long RED hair, know what I mean?"

"It's so cool, Rookey. Hey, would you do something like that for me?"

"No way!" she said, smacking him. "What do you want us to look like, the Bobsey Twins? "

Ethan came into the house, laughing his confused laugh. "Who the hell are the Bobsey Twins?"

"I don't know," Veruca said. "It's something my mom says all the time."

"That's so cool," Ethan said, "that you still talk with your mom."

"Yeah, she's okay," Veruca admitted as they walked through the house towards the kitchen. "You want a soda?"

"Sure," Ethan said. "Thanks!"

In the kitchen they found Veruca's mother, sititing at the kitchen table with her feet up on a chair. "Oh, hello, Ethan," she said easily. "How are you, honey?"

"Very good, Mrs. Albano. How are you?"

She sighed heartily, putting her feet up on a chair. "Been better, sweetie.. How's your mom?"

"Oh, she's fine," Ethan lied.

"You tell her I said hello, okay?"

Ethan nodded. "Sure will."

"So, " Mrs. Albano said. "What have you youngsters got planned for tonight?"

"Concert down at Super Sounds Studio," Veruca explained. "Lots of local bands. Pedro's band is playing. Also Kendrick's."

"Oh, really!" Mrs. Albano exclaimed. "How is Kendrick these days? Haven't seen him much lately."

"All is well," Veruca assured. "He's really into his band these days. We want to go support him."

"Okay, well, as long as you're with Ethan, I know you'll be in good hands," Mrs. Albano said, smiling at Ethan. "You'll take care of my little girl, won't you, Ethan?"

"Of course," Ethan said. "The same way I would take care of my sister. If I had a sister."

"Veruca can be your sister," Mrs. Albano said. "You're welcome here any time you need a place to crash, Ethan. I hope you know that."

"Thanks," Ethan said quietly. " I appreciate that, Mrs. A. I really do."

Mrs. Albano looked at Ethan a moment longer, thinking about saying something more, but deciding against it. She knew the divorce had been hard on Ethan. She well remembered what it had been like for Veruca when their family had gone through the trauma of divorce five years ago. Ethan was basically a good kid, she knew, and she hated to see him hurting like this.

"Okay," Veruca said, grabbing two Pepsi's from the fridge. "Enough already. Ethan's my pal, Mom, not yours. Got it?" She smiled as she said this, but there was an edge of determination in her eye. "We're going upstairs."


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, another chapter. The story gets moving a little more. Sort of like traffic down here in South Florida, after Hurricane Wilma. Life is nearly back to normal---unless you are one of the favored few (like my neighbors across the street) who still don't have electricity. Being powerless was an interesting experience, but I wouldn't want it to go on for too long. Enjoy this next chapter!_

-

-

"Maybe you'll do my streaks again," Ethan suggested to Veruca as they trudged up the stairs to her bedroom.

"Do we have time for that?" Veruca asked. "Doesn't the concert start at seven?"

They reached Veruca's bedroom where her favorite Nine Inch Nails CD was playing on her stereo, every lava lamp in the room was lit, and she was burning Sandalwood incense.

Ethan threw himself down on the bed and stared at the glow- in- the- dark stars on the ceiling. "Been smoking?" he asked.

"No, but want to?"

"Not if you're going to do my hair," Ethan joked. "I wouldn't trust you to do my hair while you're high."

"Ethe, we don't have time for that tonight, honestly. Come on, let's smoke. You got some?"

"I got a little."

"Well, produce it, man! Let's go!"

"You won't let me rest, even for a moment?" Ethan whined.

Veruca came over and sat beside him on the bed. "Let me see that eyebrow," she said. She examined the piercing. "You been taking care of it? Putting the stuff on?"

"Every day, ma'am," Ethan said. "How about your belly button?"

Veruca lifted her black tee shirt and showed Ethan the piercing she had done with him last Sunday. "It's good," she said. "No sign of infection."

"It's cute," Ethan smiled, playing with the little ring.

"It would be a lot cuter if I had a tiny flat belly," Veruca lamented. "Like Cassandra."

"Rookey…" Ethan chided. They had had this conversation a hundred times before, and it always went the same way. Ethan assured her she was beautiful the way she was, but she remained unconvinced. Ethan told her well, if it bothers you that much, go on a diet. Veruca would say she tried, but every time she got the Munchies, it blew her diet to hell. And then they would both laugh.

Only this time, the conversation went a bit differently. "I wish I had a tiny flat belly like Cassandra," Veruca repeated. "…or like Lizzie…"

Ethan lifted his head. "McGuire?"

Veruca nodded. "She had a cute tiny little belly, doesn't she?"

"Well…sure…" Ethan said, feeling something stirring inside him, just thinking about Lizzie. "But it's not like Lizzie would ever get her belly button pierced."

"I know," Veruca agreed. "Can you imagine it?"

Ethan lay back on the bed, staring up at the stars again as the stirring inside him continued. "Yes," he said dreamily. "I can imagine it…"

Veruca smacked him, knowing where he was going with this. "Well, I can't," she said. "No more than I could imagine her perfect boyfriend David Gordon piercing his tongue."

"You mean like this?" Ethan said, sticking his tongue out at her.

They both laughed. "Yeah," Veruca said. "Like that's ever going to happen, right?"

"Hey, it could happen," Ethan allowed. "Look at you and me. Nobody would have believed it of us back when we were in middle school. Now even when we were in tenth grade, right? We were all proper and prim just like McGuire and Gordon. We were on the fast track to college. Well, you were on the fast track to college. I never was."

"But I still am!" Veruca reminded. "Make no mistake. I'm getting out of this one-horse town."

Ethan laughed. "Rookey, half the time I have no idea what you're talking about. And we're not even high yet. What the hell is a one-horse town?"

"It's something else my mom says all the time. It means a really small, backwards town. She says it about Hillridge. In fact, she wants to see me get out of Hillridge. She says it will be good for me."

"See," Ethan said. "That's what's so cool about your mom. She wants to get rid of you, but not because she can't stand to have you around. She wants you to move on so you can better yourself, have a better life. Man. I wish my parents felt that way about me."

"Ethe…" Veruca said quietly.

"No, no, don't try to sell me any bullshit. My parents don't give a damn about me, we all know that. They're so wrapped up in their own lives, and I'm just an inconvenience. Shit! Maybe I will take up your mom's offer and move in here."

"No way!" Veruca exclaimed. "If my mom were to see you walking around here in your little black boxers and your nipple rings she would be all over you, I know it."

Ethan laughed. "Cut it out!"

"No, seriously. I think she's got a thing for you, Ethe. You are not moving in here, mister. I may not be able to have you, but I'm certainly not going to let my _mom_ have her fun with you."

"Rookey," Ethan said, suddenly serious, taking her hand.

"No really, Ethe, it's okay. I understand about us. That's not the problem." They were both quiet, remembering the one and only time they had kissed each other, and how weird it had felt. "Almost incestuous," Veruca had declared. The mojo was not there between them, and after some discussion, they decided they were both fine with that. Oddly, the experience had strengthened their friendship. There was no doubt now where they both stood.

But there was no doubt, either, on this other point, either, At least not as far as Veruca was concerned. She was not going to let her mom have a crack at her best guy friend. "Listen," she told Ethan. "You remember the plan. I'm looking at Ohio State. I'll get an apartment with my scholarship money, you're moving in with me. Rookey and roomie. We're _both _quitting this one horse town, okay?"

Ethan smiled at her. Of course he remembered it. He was counting on it. "Rookey," he said suddenly. "I love you."

"I love you too," she smiled. "Now do you have the stuff or don't you?"

They got up and went into the bathroom, where they smoked the joint, blowing the telltale signs out the bathroom window. As they smoked, they went back to discussing Lizzie and Gordo.

Slowly the effects of the pot began to kick in, and the conversation grew increasingly intense and unusual. They were standing in the bathroom, talking about David Gordon. Not Ethan's favorite topic of conversation, but Veruca could never get enough, especially when she was high.

It had been three months now since she had developed her hopeless crush on Lizzie McGuire's perfect boyfriend, and as far as Ethan could tell, her affliction was getting worse, not better with the passing of time. Every time they got high, all Veruca wanted to talk about was how smart Gordo was, how cute, how witty, how funny, how brilliant, and you wouldn't believe what he said yesterday in Mr. Stobb's Shakespeare class.

"We were discussing Hamlet," Veruca explained. "And Gordo brought up that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie, I think it's called…oh…what's it called…you know, the one where the kid jumps into the movie with Arnold?"

"Oh yeah!" Ethan remembered, now feeling quite stoned. "I know the movie. I don't remember the title, but I remember the movie. And Arnie, he has this really hot daughter, this blonde chick in short shorts that uses a machine gun and…oh, man…"

Veruca slapped him and it stung like a beating with a cat-o-nine-tails. "Ow!" he screamed, cowering. "What was that for?"

"Focus, Craft! You're getting off topic. Listen, it's about that movie. What's the name of that movie?"

"Oh man," Ethan breathed. "I don't know, but it's like…the greatest movie ever made…"

"Gordo seemed to like it," Veruca said dreamily. "He was talking about the scene where the kid is sitting in his English class, and he imagines Arnold as Hamlet.—"

Ethan giggled hysterically. "Arnold as Hamlet! Yeah, I remember."

"'There's something rotten in Denmark,'" Veruca quoted in a deep voice. "'And Hamlet is taking out the trash.'"

After this they were both laughing hysterically, doubled over with giggles in Veruca's small bathroom. God! This was what Ethan loved about Veruca. They always had so much fun, and they didn't even need to be having sex. She was the only girl he could have fun with without having sex.

"Rookey…" he began when the laughter had died down, meaning to say something mushy.

But Veruca was still thinking about David Gordon. "God…" she marveled. "He's so…so…he has a movie reference for everything, you know? He knows what he likes, and he knows his stuff. He's so freaking smart, you know, Ethan? He's so full of…of…."

"Bullshit?" Ethan supplied, earning another whack with the cat-o-nine-tails.

"No!" Veruca exclaimed. "He's so full of… intelligent romanticism."

"Crap," Ethan laughed, leaning against the bathroom wall, "You're confusing the shit out of me now. I'm not even going to ask."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Veruca said, taking him by the arm. "Come on. let's get out of the fucking bathroom."

"Yeah," Ethan agreed, bleary-eyed, as Veruca led him back into her bedroom.

"David Gordon," Ethan went on as Veruca deposited him back on the bed. "He's my man. Listen, Rookey. I cold hook you up."

Veruca gasped. "No, you couldn't!"

"I could. I could. Gor-don is still my pally," he said, once again gazing at the glow-in-the-dark stars, which weren't glowing.

"No he isn't, Ethan. Gordo thinks you're weird. He thinks I'm weird. He _and_ Lizzie both think that you and I are _weird._ There may have been a time when you and Gordo were friends, but that was only very briefly. In ninth grade."

"No, in tenth."

"No, it was ninth."

For some undetermined amount of time they argued back and forth about whether it was ninth grade or tenth grade. When they were done, they had not reached a consensus, but they both suddenly knew they needed to eat chocolate cupcakes.


	3. Chapter 3

_My NaNo is going good, I'm on target with about 1800 words per day. Here's another chapter of Teenager. If it seems a little slow, don't worry. Some conflict starts up in the next chapter. _

_Just wondering how you all are percieving the Goth Ethan. Can you see him with the black and blue hair and the piercings? Do you think it could really happen? I wanted to do something different, yet remain true to the characters---at least true to what the characters might become. _

_ By the way, does anyone know Veruca's last name? _

_Enjoy._

-

-

Somehow they were out on the sidewalk, putting one foot in front of the other, heading down to Food Giant. "Oh man," Ethan laughed. "Are we going to Food Giant? Really?"

"That's where they keep the chocolate cupcakes, sweetheart," Veruca said.

Ethan looked across at her. "Your hair," he said. "It's red. It's really…_really_ red…"

"I know," Veruca said. "After this, we'll catch the bus over to Super Sound, okay? It's almost seven."

Ethan nodded. "Rookey, I love you," he said. "You're going to buy me chocolate cupcakes?"

"Sure, Ethe," she said, linking her arm in his.

By the time they got to Food Giant they were not as stoned as they had been earlier, but craving the cupcakes more than ever. They ran all through the store, looking at virtually everything, then settling for two packages of Ring Dings and a two liter bottle of A&W cream soda. They brought their snack on the bus, and sat in the back, enjoying their feast, sharing the warm soda. They were laughing so much that the other people on the bus kept casting odd glances at them.

"We've got to calm down." Veruca warned, "Or the bus driver is going to throw us off."

"That's right," Ethan agreed in a loud voice. "Throw the weird Goth kids off the bus. Because they were _laughing."_

"A crime!" Veruca exclaimed, and they laughed some more.

Then finally, Veruca said, "Okay, okay. Let's calm down. Seriously."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Ethan wondered pushing his black hair out of his eyes. He reached into his back pocket and produced a comb, smoothing down his long mop of black and faded blue hair, then checking his eyeliner in the small attached mirror.

"Well…" Veruca suggested carefully. "How about…we talk about Lizzie?"

Ethan clutched his heart. "Ouch," he said quietly. "You know right where to aim, don't you?"

"Come on, Ethe. You listened to me go on and on before about Gordo. I want to know what's happening with you and Lizzie."

"Nothing's happening with me and Lizzie," Ethan said heavily.

"Will she even talk to you?" Veruca wondered. "Will she return your calls?"

"No," he said flatly. "She gets her family to lie for her and say she's not home. And when I see her in school, she looks the other way."

Veruca sighed. "Kind of like what Gordo does with me."

Ethan laughed derisively. "What the hell is wrong with us, Rookey? Why the hell are we crushing on a couple of Straights? And Straights that are such stuck up snobs they want absolutely nothing to do with us."

"At least at one time Lizzie was crazy for you. You remember."

"Of course I remember. In middle school. Man! What was wrong with me? Such a fine chick like Lizzie, and I totally blew her off. I had my chance and I blew it."

"Yeah, but Gordo never even gave me a second glance. And I know why. It's because I'm fat."

"Damn it, Rookey! You are not fat! And if it bothers you so much, why don't you just go on a fucking diet?"

"Ethe! Don't yell at me. I'm far too delicate…"

"Delicate, my ass," Ethan scoffed. "You are the strongest woman I know. The strongest and the smartest. And David Gordon is an absolute imbecile if he can't see that."

Veruca laughed. "Did you say…_imbecile_?"

"Yeah, I did!" Ethan exclaimed.

"Ethe! Such a big word. We may have to reconsider getting you into Ohio State."

"Don't kid yourself, Rookey. The best I can hope for is Assistant Manager at the Hot Topic in the mall. But I wouldn't mind that."

"I wouldn't either," Veruca said. "As long as you can get me a discount."

"You can count on it," Ethan said. "You can count... on a discount."

_Counting on a discount_ sent them into hysterics again, and all the people on the bus were happy to finally see them disembark, ten blocks away from Super Sound Studios.

-

The walk to the Studio did not seem that long, as they met up with friends along the way, joked around, smoked another joint. Andrew had a bottle of booze and they passed it around. "Oh man!" Ethan said as he chugged some down. "I am going to get _so wasted!"_

As a matter of fact, by the time they got to the concert, Ethan was pretty far gone and feeling just fine about that. Everybody they knew was there, it was a total party. Veruca went off with Melissa, Cassandra and Tom, and Ethan found himself floating around the crowd, enjoying each new experience as he came upon it.

The music was too good for words, and so he just listened, getting lost in the energy of it for songs at a time. Those were minutes that seemed like hours. Pedro's band played first, and Ethan kept yelling "You rock, man! You fuckin' rock!" They were good, and he was so wasted.

Next came another band, which Ethan did not know so well, and which he quickly discovered did not rock his world the way Pedro's band had. Temporarily bored by the music, he glanced around, looking for chicks.

_Chicks always dig me_, Ethan thought with a cocky smile. _Always have, always will. _It didn't matter if he was a straight jock or a head-banging Goth, there was always some girl somewhere that wanted a piece of him. And sure enough….there she was.

Ethan grinned across the crowded room at Kate Sanders. Once upon a time Kate had been as straight at he had been. They had been hot and heavy, off and on, for many years. Still were. Kate could not seem to let go. Even now, Elvira-ed out from her pitch black hair to the tips of her black leather stiletto heels, her breasts pushed up by a black corset and practically falling out of her fishnet top, she could clearly attract any guy here.

But she had her eye on Ethan, across the crowded room. Slowly, he made his way over to her, pushed here and there by the crowd as if by waves, but eventually bobbing quite contentedly directly in front of his old flame.

"Kate…Sanders…" he said, still grinning.

"Ethan, you germ," she said. "How the hell are you, anyway?"

They talked for a while, barely able to hear each other over the music. Soon, jostled by the crowd, Ethan yelled, "Hey! You want to get out of here?"

Kate nodded and grabbed his hand. She dragged him to the back door and out into the alleyway. Here it was quieter, darker, cooler. Ethan sat down on…on something, he wasn't sure what, and he was too wasted to care. He barely knew where he was, or even who he was.

"Oh, Kate…Kate…" he moaned. "How the hell did we get here? How did we ever go from the popularity jocks we were in middle school to…to…this…"

Kate got down on her knees before him, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing him fully on the lips.

Ethan laughed through the kiss. "Katie…what are you doing…?"

"Shut up," she said. "I want you."

A half hour later Ethan found himself lying down in the back seat of some anonymous car, zipping up his pants, sighing as the rushing noise within his head slowly subsided. "Damn, Kate," he said appreciatively. "You still got it."

"So do you," Kate complimented, readjusting her fishnet top. "And the tongue piercing…very nice touch," she added.

"I did it just for you," Ethan said with a crooked smile.

"Did not, you moron."

Alright, I didn't," Ethan amended.

"Ethan!"

"Hey! Wait! Listen!" Ethan exclaimed, suddenly sitting up. "Shit! That's Kendrick's band! I'm missing it!"

Ethan jumped up and Kate screamed, "Hey! What about me?"

"It's been real, Katie. But I gotta go."

"Fuck! Ethan, you get back here!" Kate yelled at him through the back window of the car.

But Ethan was already back in the crowd, absorbed by the music, screaming along with the lyrics. Tom and Cassandra were by his side. Veruca was there too. They all began to dance. "Kendrick is awesome!" Veruca yelled. "He's fuckin' awesome!"

"No, shit!" Cassandra agreed. "I want to have his baby!"

The energy was so intense until finally the concert ended with an explosion of sound and fury. Afterwards everybody was exhausted, musicians and audience alike, but not too exhausted to wonder what their next stop might be this evening. After much milling about, it was decided that Denny's was the place to be. Ethan and Veruca would catch a ride with Tom and Cassandra. Pedro and William were also coming along in the car.

Veruca called her mom to advise of the plans. Mom just wanted to know if she was still with Ethan, if he was still protecting her. "Yes, Mom, Ethan is always protecting me," she said into the phone, smiling at Ethan. "I'll see you later."

Veruca offered her phone to Ethan. "You gotta call anyone?"

Ethan looked at the cell phone as if it were a poisonous snake. "No," he said glumly.

"What about your dad?" Veruca asked.

Ethan shook his head. "I got no one to call, no one who cares. All the people I care about are right here," he added, leaning back against the shabby leather seat of Tom's rusty, people-packed Cadillac. He wrapped his arm around Veruca and in that moment, that was all he needed.

-

_More. _


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm getting mixed reactions to the Goth thing, which is interesting. As for explaining why Ethan, Veruca or even Kate chose this path, I really don't go into it. Maybe I should, but I don't. Things happen, people change. With Ethan at least I think it would have to be obvious it's, at least to some extent, a reaction to his parents' divorce and the fact that he's feeling no love from them. With Kate, one might surmise that she simply cracked after all those years of playing the perfect princess. I don't know. I think it's more interesting to leave these questions unanswered and let everybody draw their own conclusions._

_BK03 made a comment about not believing Gordo would be rude to Veruca. That hasn't happened yet, tho to some extent I think it's coming up. As for "Straights" being rude to Goths, I did some research by talking with my roommates, who are both former Goths, and they assure me that by and large most other kids are, if anything, **afraid** of Goths. I didn't want to go there too much, but I try to make it more a sense of uneasiness._

_If any of you have any insight on the Goth situation, please share! Like I said, my research is limited, and I have always been more fascinated by "the fringe" than by the mainstream, so any comments/info/insight would be most appreciated!  
_

_-_

-

Denny's was only a short distance from Super Sounds Studio, but as car after car of concertgoers arrived, a group gathered outside. The fresh air felt good, sobering everybody up as the group grew to fifteen, then eighteen, then twenty strong.

"They damn well better seat us," Andrew said.

"You know they will," Melissa answered. "We may look strange, but we tip well."

"Tip well! Tip well!" went up the cry as the odd-looking flock of black sheep approached the front door of the restaurant.

"Hey! Look!" Ethan cried, jumping up as he came through the front door. "Parker's working tonight! I hope she's our waitress!"

"What for?" Andrew wondered. "So you can give her a hard time again?"

"I never give her a hard time!" Ethan protested.

"Oh yeah? 'There's not enough _coke_ in my coca-cola.' Sound familiar?"

"Man! I was so stoned when I did that!" Ethan laughed. "I'm not _that _stoned now---"

As Ethan said this, walking though the front door of the restaurant, he stopped short when he saw a very sweet looking young couple trying their luck at The Claw machine.

Lizzie and Gordo.

Ethan stopped talking. He even stopped walking. Veruca bumped into him from behind, yelling "Hey---!" but she too was stopped short when she saw who Ethan was looking at.

"Oh, God, not again," Cassandra moaned, moving past the immobilized couple.

-

Soon all of their friends were well into the restaurant, Parker McKenzie seating them in the furthest corner, away from as many customers as possible. But Ethan and Veruca stood in the foyer, staring at Lizzie and Gordo. They watched Gordo reach with the claw, move a purple giraffe, stand it up straight, lift it out of the pile of other wildly colored stuffed animals….then drop it on the way up.

"Awww!" Ethan moaned. "Tough luck, dude!"

Lizzie and Gordo turned suddenly to look at their audience. _Oh, crap!_ registered briefly on both their faces, quickly followed by completely blank expressions, which were less rude, and a lot safer. It wasn' t that Lizzie and Gordo didn't _like_ Ethan and Veruca…well, okay, they didn't much like them, but to a certain extent they were afraid of them. At the very least, they were afraid of what they represented.

Both Ethan and Veruca saw the look, and knew exactly what it meant. They had seen it many times, from many different people, and by this time, they should have been used to it, but it always hurt a little more when it came from the one you were so desperately crushing on.

Ethan kept staring at Lizzie in her pretty green v-neck sweater. Veruca was the first to speak.

"Hey, Gordo," she said brightly. "Hi, Lizzie."

They both mumbled a greeting.

"Any luck yet?" Veruca asked, coming to the side of the machine and looking in. "My dad used to be able to do this really good, you know. He was always picking up little teddy bears for me. I have about a million of them in my room. What are you going for?"

"The giraffe," Gordo said, trying again.

"Looks like you loosened it up good on your last try," Veruca said. "I bet you'll get it this time around."

Veruca and Lizzie both watched as Gordo dropped the claw again, but this try brought no results. Ethan still stood frozen to the spot, staring at Lizzie, mesmerized by how beautiful she looked in her bright green v-neck sweater.

"Ohhh!" Lizzie exclaimed, linking her arm through Gordo's. "Good try, sweetie. That's enough. Let's go sit down, okay?"

Gordo agreed silently, nodding quickly at Veruca and then Ethan as they walked past. Ethan was staring so heavily at Lizzie there was no way she could pretend she didn't see him, so she offered a weak, nervous smile as she passed, saying, "Hey, Ethan…"

"Hey, Lizzie," he returned, then continued staring as she and her boyfriend continued on towards their table.

Suddenly Ethan felt a strong whack on his back. "Don't just stand there like a jackass!" Veruca hissed.

Ethan jumped into motion. "Hey, Lizzie!" he cried, following the young couple to their table. Veruca was close behind.

Coming into the restaurant it was soon apparent that Lizzie and Gordo were on a double date. Miranda Sanchez and Larry Tudgeman sat together on one side of a booth. Lizzie and then Gordo slipped in on the other side.

Ethan and Veruca came to the head of the table, looking down at the four who had once upon a time been their friends, at least to some degree.

"Hey! Ethan! Veruca!" Larry called excitedly. "What's happening?"

Larry was a jock now, and had been since the middle of tenth grade, when he discovered that by applying scientific principles of force and motion, along with a mathematical knowledge of angles, and a lot of dumb luck, he could hit a baseball pretty damn far. Due to his performance, the Hillridge High baseball team had risen in the ranks, actually going to the countywide competition for the first time in years.

Since Larry's rise in popularity, he was now wearing more attractive clothes, washing his hair regularly, and going out with girls. Miranda had apparently been pursuing him for quite some time, and he had finally given in.

"Hey, Tudge…" Ethan said, gripping his hand.

"Hi, Larry," Veruca offered. "Hey, Miranda."

"Veruca!" Larry exclaimed, his eyes sparkling at her. "The hair! Wow!"

"You like it?"

"I love it!" Larry exclaimed.

"Yeah," Gordo quipped. "Lar, you got a thing for redheads, don't you?"

Larry blushed a little. "Redheads," he explained. "Blondes, brunettes…"

Here Larry grinned at Miranda, who was beginning to look a little perturbed. Then he turned back to Ethan and said, "You too, Craft. Interesting choice with the blue. What's that all about?"

Larry may be a jock now, but he could not so easily forget his many years as a complete social outcast. _Been there, done that_ Larry refused to ostracize anyone for their peculiar interests or appearance. To him Ethan and Veruca were simple Ethan and Veruca, the same way he wished years ago his classmates could have accepted him as _simply Larry. _He wasn't condemning Ethan's strange choice of hair color, but with the same inquisitive spirit that has always caused him to excel at every Science Fair Project he had ever put his hands to, he simply wanted to know.

"Yeah…well…" Ethan began, "It's like this. My outward appearance reflects the inner condition of my soul. Right now I feel life is…bruising me a little, you know? Black and blue. Get it?"

Tudge nodded. "I get it," he said, but nobody else said anything, and there was an awkward pause until Ethan said, "And what's up with you, Tudge? Baseball, huh? "

"Yeah," was all Tudge would say about that. Then, "So…Veruca… " he said, unable to keep his eyes off her hair. "Bold fashion statement…Or are you also expressing your inner condition? "

Veruca shrugged. "No, I'm just the girl with the red hair."

At this point Lizzie and Miranda should have jumped into the conversation, turning it into girl talk, but they both sat stony and silent. Veruca smiled at Larry, appreciatively, but feeling uncomfortable and unaccepted by the others. She didn't care about Lizzie and Miranda, but it hurt her that Gordo would not even look at her. _And why should he?_ She wondered. _I'm a freak, ain't I?_

Before Veruca had too long to stew over these morbid thoughts, Ethan piped up, "So…Lizzie…I called you earlier…"

Lizzie laughed nervously. "Really?"

"Yeah, talked to Matt. Didn't he tell you?"

"Haven't seen him," Lizzie said. "I try not to talk to him too much, if it can at all be avoided."

"Well, I just wanted to ask you about the homework in Cleary's class. I'm a little lost, and you always seem to know what's going on in there."

Veruca stifled a laugh, thinking, _Way to pour it on, Craft!  
_  
Immediately, she realized that the others must think she was laughing at the idea of Lizzie knowing what was going on in a class. Veruca did not want to appear to be insulting Gordo's girlfriend, so she quickly said, "Like Ethan would ever know what's going on in a class. It's like---woosh---in one ear and out the other."

Everyone ignored this comment, and Lizzie said to Ethan, "I…uh….well, as long as you've read the book, you'll be okay."

"Which book?" Ethan asked.

Veruca laughed again, repeating "Woosh…" She usually wasn't so demeaning to her best friend, but being so close to Gordo was making her feel a little nervous and silly.

"Let me guess," Gordo said. "American Literature? Is it Mark Twain? Is it John Steinbeck?"

"Hey! Steinbeck!" Ethan exclaimed. "That's the dude. I remember his name. Damn, Gor-don. You're good. How do you know all this stuff?" Ethan figured complimenting Lizzie's boyfriend may earn him some Brownie points.

"Gordo took American Lit last year, in eleventh grade," Lizzie said proudly. "Now he's in English Honors, Shakespeare."

"I know!" Veruca said. "Me too! We're in the same class."

Miranda made a scoffing sound. "Shakespeare!" she said. "The only good thing about Shakespeare is that actor that played him in that movie. What was the name of that movie?"

"Oh, I know the one you mean!" Veruca exclaimed. She was very good with movies. "It was in the early 90's, I think. Gwyneth Paltrow was in it. And somebody Fiennes."

"Shakespeare in Love!" Larry provided, joining the game.

"Yes, that's it!" Veruca said, and as she did, Larry made a motion that invited her to have a seat, and almost before she knew what she was doing, she realized she was sitting down in the booth. Directly next to Gordo!

This evening was turning out to be more interesting than either Veruca or Ethan could have originally planned.

And it was about to get more intense than anyone would have ever wanted it to be.


	5. Chapter 5

_NOW I have lost my phone and internet service at home, and Bell South says it could be as long as Nov 25 before I get it back. And just when I think the world is getting back to normal! Anyway, I'm posting this from outside the local Quizno's, which offers free internet service. Hey! Just out of curiousity: those of you from other parts, do you know what Quizno's is? Yum-yum!_

_Oh, and that reminds me, ck3cka, I wanted to let you know I so enjoyed your comment about Ethan and the cupcakes!_

_ Also, BK03, I wanted to thank you for your last comment. It made me think a little, and I made some adjustments to this upcoming chapter, so I hope now it makes a little more sense, I hope I'm catching Gordo's spirit a little better. As I think I said before, the LGM in this story is not what you usually see, and of course I still love LGM, but I had to make them somewhat snobbish here in order to create some more conflict for poor Ethan and Veruca._

_So, anyway, thanks for reading, and best wishes for everyone who is NaNo-ing!_

-

-

Taking his cue from Veruca, Ethan sat down next to Larry. Now they were six at the table, and it would have been awkward, but Larry suddenly went on, "You know what's my favorite film reference to Shakespeare? You know the one where the kid gets inside the movie with Arnold Schwarzennegger---"

All at once, Ethan, Veruca and Gordo were all smacking the table in agreement.

"Yes!" Gordo exclaimed. "I was talking about that movie the other day in class!"

"What is the name of that movie?" Veruca asked, turning slightly towards Gordo, realizing she and Ethan had never figured it out earlier in the evening.

"The Last Action Hero," Gordo said instantly.

Instantly, both Veruca and Ethan were shouting, "Oh, yes! Oh, man! Dude!" as they high-fived each other across the table.

The others gave them an odd look, though Larry was laughing a little. Veruca turned to Gordo and said, "Thanks, Gordo. We were trying to think of it earlier, and we couldn't. It was driving us crazy. So really, thanks."

"Sure," Gordo said, giving her a strange look.

Veruca felt a little butterflyish inside. Gordo had actually spoken to her! She felt encouraged, and decided she would be bold, going on, "I was telling Ethe about what you said in class the other day, how you mentioned the movie when we were discussing Hamlet."

"I was just mentioning," Gordo explained to his friends, "how ironic I thought it was that Schwarzenegger, probably the most contrived of all actors, would choose to make any kind of reference to William Shakespeare, who of course said, in Hamlet as a matter of fact, 'To thine own self be true---'"

"And it must follow, as the day the night,'" Larry completed, "'that thou canst not then be false to any man.'"

Everyone at the table sat up a little straighter, impressed. "Larry!" Miranda said. "I never knew you were such a fan of Shakespeare."

"I'm not really," Larry said. "But I do remember that quote. I heard it when I was a kid, and it's kind of stuck with me my whole life."

"Me too," Gordo said.

"Me too," Ethan said.

The three guys all looked at each other, and there was a tense moment until Lizzie asked, "Well, what exactly does it mean?"

Suddenly Miranda interjected, "Hey, Ethan, Veruca, aren't your friends going to miss you?" She nodded towards the corner of the restaurant, where the flock of black sheep was giving Parker a hard time as they placed their drink orders.

"Wait," Veruca said. "I want to hear Gordo explain the Shakespeare quote."

"Hey!" Gordo said. "Why does it fall to me?"

"Because you're the smartest one here," Veruca smiled. Now _she_ was pouring it on! "And because you started it."

"Yeah, Gordon," Larry said. "You started it. So enlighten us, why don't you?"

Miranda laughed a little. "Professor Gordo…" she snickered.

Ethan also snickered, repeating, "Professor Gordo..." but not in the way a true friend would.

Gordo glared at him. That damn Ethan Craft! All through middle school he had had to listen to Lizzie and Miranda gushing about what a hunk he was. When Ethan went Goth, Gordo thought, _ At last some relief! Surely they won't be so ga-ga over him now._ What he never counted on was Ethan developing a crush on Lizzie. Of course Gordo knew all about it. Everybody knew all about it. It wasn't that Gordo worried he might possibly lose Lizzie to Ethan at this point, but he did find Ethan's presence annoying and embarrassing whenever he injected himself into Lizzie's life, which was far too often for Gordo's liking.

Slowly easing up on the glare he was bestowing upon Ethan, Gordo turned back to the group, rolled his eyes and returned to the issue at hand. "Well, it's not that complicated, actually," he said. "When Shakespeare says to your own self be true, he means precisely that. He means that you shouldn't be a fake, a phony. And it means that being honest has to start with yourself. That you can't be honest with anyone else unless you are first honest with yourself."

"That's what I thought it meant," Lizzie said.

"I told you it wasn't that big a deal," Gordo replied.

"But it is a big deal!" Tudge insisted. "It's such a totally important concept. It's foundational. You could build your life on a foundation like that."

"Yeah, man, you could," Ethan agreed.

"You _could,_" Gordo said sharply, his eyes settling on Ethan across the table. "You could, if you had any idea whatsoever who your true self actually was."

Ethan pushed back a strand of pale blue hair and narrowed his eyes at Gordo. Had he detected a hint of sarcasm in the little man's voice? He was _not_ feeling the love. He really didn't want to start anything with Lizzie's _boyfriend_, but somehow he could not stop himself from staring directly into Gordo's eyes, repeating back at him, "Yeah, you _could, _Gor-don_…_if you had any idea who your true self actually was."

"Of course, a person who was confident in his true self," Gordo went on, eyes still locked with Ethan's, "wouldn't feel the need to hide behind a disguise…"

Ethan felt his lip quivering. _Don't take the bait!_ he told himself, but in the next moment he heard himself saying, "And of course, a person who was confident in his true self, and with his _significant other, _ wouldn't allow himself to be some pussy-whipped puppet who---"

"Hey!" Lizzie exclaimed, jumping to Gordo's defense.

Ethan glanced briefly at Lizzie, upset that she was upset. Though she certainly did look pretty when she was upset. He wanted so much to grab her in his arms and kiss her to make it all better, temporarily forgetting that he was the one that had upset her. For a moment, he could see nothing but Lizzie, and was aware of nothing except how much he wanted her.

But in the next moment, Gordo was retaliating, "That's what you'll never understand, Craft. The delicate balance between being 'pussy-whipped,' as you call it, and actually getting some, I mean really getting some."

Ethan felt himself steaming. Oh God! The thought of Lizzie with this heartless little prick---

But having established that he was sleeping with the beautiful Lizzie and Ethan was not, Gordo now returned to his original theme. "You're so wrapped up in yourself, Craft," he said, "so wrapped up in portraying a certain image, that I suppose in that twisted black mind of yours, you somehow imagine that…_all this_…this costume, this attitude, this façade, somehow makes you true to yourself…"

"Guys, guys!" Tudge said, putting his hands down on the table between them, careful not to spill the drinks. "We're all true to our own selves…in our own ways…"

"You think so?" Veruca challenged, anxious now to take the attention off Ethan, because she could see he was steaming, and she knew how he could get when he was angry. "And what about you, Tudgeman?" she challenged. "Are you true to yourself? Haven't you changed quite a bit?"

"Haven't _you _changed quite a bit?" Tudge shot back.

"I think we've all changed quite a bit," Miranda said. "After all, we're not in middle school anymore, are we?"

"No, we're not," Ethan said scathingly. "And yet, Miranda, you haven't changed at all, have you? You're still the mindless popularity junkie you've always been."

"Ethan!" Lizzie cried, now jumping to Miranda's defense.

Ethan looked at Lizzie again, desperately wondering why he felt compelled to insult her friends. And yet he went on. "Look at you, Randy! Since when are you interested in Tudge? Only since he's become a fuckin' jock!"

"Oh, that's not fair!" Miranda said. "I've always had a thing for Larry---"

"Yeah, but until he became a jock you wouldn't even piss on him if he were on fire---"

"God! You're disgusting!" Lizzie cried, folding her arms over her green sweater.

For a moment Ethan was wounded into silence, staring at Lizzie.

"You _are_ disgusting," Gordo took up where his girlfriend left off. "Look at you, Craft! Look what you've become! And you too, Veruca! You think this is being true to yourself? You think just because you walk around like you don't give a crap what anybody thinks about you that gives you the right to do whatever the hell you want and call it _honesty?"_

Ethan jumped up from the table, rattling the glasses. "And you, Gordon! You think because you walk around pretending like you _do_ give a crap about every fuckin' thing in the world, that makes you and Lizzie better people than me and Rookey? We want to change the world, not be absorbed by it. We seek revolution, not mindless compliance. We are the future. You've already got one foot in the stinkin' graveyard of comatose suburbia."

Gordo also jumped up from the table, which didn't make much of an impression, because he was nearly a foot shorter than Ethan, but he did boldly poke his opponent in the chest with one finger as he retaliated, "That's where you're wrong, Craft. You're dead wrong. Lizzie and I are going to end up with everything that makes life worth living and you…you?" Here he laughed derisively as he pronounced, "You'll be _lucky_ if you can get a job where a hundred times a day you have to say 'Would you like fries with that?' You dream about anarchy and revolution, but the truth is you'll probably end up OD'ed in a small apartment somewhere, covered in roaches and your own feces."

Ethan felt so agitated by Gordo's finger poking his chest that he could barely keep himself from smacking him clear across the room. He wanted nothing more than to put the little creep in his place, but one glance at Lizzie's worried face stopped that thought dead in its track. He felt like he was boiling up inside, about to explode, but momentarily silenced by the certain knowledge that he had already hurt Lizzie enough for one night.

Best to walk away. Right now. Just walk away.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't let this smug bastard have the last word. So he had the last word. Actually, it was two words, a very eloquent, "Fuck you!" as at the same time his hand, which had been on it's way to Gordo's face diverted itself to the top of the table, spilling all the drinks in every direction.

Everyone screamed, Lizzie loudest of all, as cherry cola splattered all over her beautiful green sweater. Ethan felt his heart breaking as he saw her look of absolute mortification. He knew everyone had been hit, but he didn't see them and he didn't care. He could only see Lizzie, and then he saw nothing as he stormed out of the restaurant into the dark night, alone.


	6. Chapter 6

_Just got back from a Writer's Weekend with a couple of friends, during which I added approximately 10,000 words to my NaNo. Visit my LJ thru my Profile Page if interested in more details. A very rewarding experience, tho I am kind of mentally drained at the moment. But I wanted to post the next chapter of this story. It looks relatively short, yet packed with angst. Enjoy._

-

-

"Way to go, Gordo!" Veruca cried, standing up in a puddle of sprite and cola.

"Me?" Gordo returned, grabbing as many napkins as he could. "It was your boyfriend who---"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Veruca screamed. "And it's not his fault! I can't believe how you egged him on! How could you be so cruel? And to think I actually---oh, _shit_!" she exclaimed, close to tears as she stormed out of the restaurant after Ethan.

True, Veruca was upset at Gordo, feeling so disillusioned with him, but as she ran out of the restaurant, all she could think about was Ethan. Where was he and what was he doing? She hated it when he got this upset. Whenever he got this upset, he usually ended up crying, and then he hated himself for crying. Sometimes he would punch himself, sometimes he would even cut himself. She couldn't let that happen again.

Veruca went out into the night and looked around. She hoped Ethan had not taken off running. He could be anywhere, and she wouldn't know how to find him. She was just beginning to feel frantic when she noticed a lone figure sitting on the bus bench by the main road. At this hour of the night nobody would be waiting for the bus, and Veruca could tell by the slump of the shoulders exactly who it was.

She ran to Ethan, sat beside him and put her arms around him. "Ethe!" she cried. "Ethe, don't do that to me. Don't ever leave me alone like that."

Ethan had his hands over his face. Already he was fighting tears. "I hate that little bastard," he spat out. "That goddamn stuckup little prick, he knows exactly what to say to piss me off. And he's got Lizzie! He doesn't deserve her, but he's got her. And I don't. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Now Ethan really was crying, bawling his eyes out as Veruca wrapped her arms around him and cried with him. She was crying for Ethan feeling so bad, and now that she knew he was safe, she was also once again able to also think about her own feelings.

"You're right," Veruca sniffed. "That Gordo is a goddamn bastard. How could I be so fucking stupid to want to have anything to do with him? I hate him! I hate him!"

They cried together a little more. Ethan was still thinking about something Gordo had said, something that had really disturbed him, but which he could share with no one, not even Veruca. The truth was that Gordo had too eloquently described his deepest fear---that he would end up alone and sad, dead from drugs, lying in his own filth. Sometimes he dreamed about it, and woke up sweating and screaming. Now as he sat here on this bench, thinking about it, he found himself sweating, and then he heard himself screaming. His heart was racing. He felt like he was going to fall off the edge of the earth. And the only thing that kept him from doing so was Veruca's arms around him.

"Ethan…Ethan…Ethan…" she said desperately, clinging to him. "Please…please…"

Slowly then, at Veruca's urging, Ethan was able to bring himself under control. But he still said, now very softly, "That stupid stuckup Miranda. And that fuckin' Gordo."

"I know," Veruca agreed. "I hate him. I really hate him."

Ethan laughed a little through his tears as he grabbed Veruca's arms and said, "No you don't, Rookey. You wish you could hate him. But you don't."

"Damn!" Veruca cried. "This is so sick! What the hell is wrong with me? Am I a fuckin' masochist or what?"

"No, I'm the fuckin' masochist," Ethan said. "Why the hell did I have to spill soda all over Lizzie? Oh my God! I'm such an asshole. I should at least buy her a new sweater, you think? That one will be ruined. Not only that, but she's going to hate me forever now. Do you think she would accept it if I bought her a new sweater?"

"No," Veruca said. One of the things Ethan loved about Veruca was that she was always brutally honest with him.

"Then what do you think I should do?" he asked desperately.

"I think you should try your hardest to completely forget about Lizzie, the same way I should do whatever I can to get Gordo out of my head, and out of my heart, the bastard. I know, I know. Easier said than done. But I think it's what you should do."

"I can't wait till we go away," Ethan said, now holding tightly to Veruca's arms around his chest. "I can't wait till we go to Ohio and get our sorry asses out of this sorry horse town."

Veruca laughed sadly. "One horse town," she corrected. "Yeah, it'll be great to get away from here, won't it? And to start all over, where nobody knows who we were before this, so there will be no comparisons, no judgments. Well, there will always be judgments, but at least not those kinds of judgments. And of course the best part of all…Lizzie and Gordo won't be there."

"I can't wait to go away with you," Ethan said, leaning his head against Veruca's. "I can't stand it anymore, seeing Lizzie every day. It just hurts too much. Especially when I have to see her with that prick Gordo."

"I hate him," Veruca repeated. "I wish I could hate him. I don't want to see him anymore either. I want to forget all about him and all about Hillridge, this one horse town, where everybody has…has…how did you put it? 'One foot in the graveyard of comatose suburbia.'"

"Who said that?" Ethan asked.

"You did, you moron! Don't you remember? You were so fucking eloquent."

"I was? I don't remember."

"Ethan! You were absolutely poetic! I was so proud of you! You really stood up for what you believe in. You were better than ten Gordo's put together."

Ethan understood this was possibly the highest compliment he was ever going to receive in his life, and his heart was overcome with love for Veruca, so pleased by her faith in him. He turned to give her a big hug.

And as he did, from the corner of his bleary eye he saw a figure walking towards them.


	7. Chapter 7

_Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!_

_And to EKJ, thanks for noting my consistency! I try hard to keep a story going at a steady, even pace. One thing I will promise is that if I start a story, I will finish it, so any time you see something new from me, you can always begin to read, confident that I will not leave you hanging. It's a point of honor with me._

_Talking about something new from me, I got an idea today for a little Christmas story. It will be a one-shot super sweet LG called The Perfect Gift. It's about half written at the moment. Look for it in the next day or two to help get you in the holiday mood!_

_And now on with Ethan and Veruca...and the mysteriously approaching figure..._

_-_

_-_

"Crap," Ethan said. "It's Tudgeman."

Veruca looked. "Tudgeman's okay," she said. "He's different. He's not like the others."

"Yeah, he's okay," Ethan agreed. "And I think he's got a little crush on you."

Veruca gasped. "He does not!"

Now Ethan laughed, and his laughter was music to Veruca's ears. Let Tudgeman have the most hopeless crush he possibly could, if it could make Ethan laugh like this, she was all for it.

"Yes, he does," Ethan insisted. "He's crushin' on you, Rookey. It's like in middle school when he---"

"Quiet! Here he comes," Veruca said quickly.

They both looked over the back of the bench as Tudge drew near. When he was close enough he said, "Hey."

"Hey," Veruca said.

Tudge came around to the front of the bench. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

Ethan smirked. "Why the fuck do you care?"

Veruca smacked him. Hadn't he just agreed Tudge was okay? "Why do you have to be so goddamn difficult all the time?" she demanded. Then she looked at Tudge and said, "It's okay. We're okay. Ethan is okay."

"I just wanted to apologize," Tudge said.

Ethan smirked. "Why? You didn't do anything."

"I know, but I'm apologizing for my friends."

"Why don't they apologize for themselves?"

"They're too busy cleaning the soda up from all around the table," Tudge said flatly.

Ethan smirked again, then stood up.

"Where are you going?" Veruca asked.

"Home," Ethan said. "Which home? I don't know. I'm supposed to be with Dad, but Mom is closer. But I don't think either really cares if I show up. I'll just start walking and see where I end up."

"Ethan…" Veruca said carefully.

He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. "Don't worry, Rookey. I'll be okay."

"You promise?"

"I promise," he said softly, and Veruca nodded. There were times when the very tone of Ethan's voice could reassure her, and this was one of those times.

Ethan stood up. "I'll call you tomorrow, Rookey," he said. "See you later, Tudge. It's been_….real_…"

As Ethan turned to go, loping down the dark street, Tudge took up residence on the bench he had just vacated. He and Veruca sat in silence for a few moments, watching Ethan disappear down the street, then Tudge turned to his companion and said, straight-out, "Gordo is aware, of course, that Ethan has a thing for Lizzie. That makes him a little possessive, a little jealous. He's not usually such a jerk, really. He just finds Ethan a bit threatening, if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Veruca said. "But that still doesn't change the fact that he hurt Ethan. And when he hurts Ethan, that hurts me too."

"And you and Ethan are…you know…?"

Veruca sighed heartily. "No," she said flatly.

Tudge smiled. "Well…good then. Because actually, Veruca, I've been thinking about asking you out."

Veruca felt a wave of shock run through her. "Tudgeman," she said. "Don't make fun of me."

"No, Veruca, I'm dead serious."

"And so am I," she said. "There are so many things wrong with that, I don't even know where to begin."

"Go ahead," Tudge smiled. "Begin. Start somewhere. I can't wait to hear this."

"Well…" Veruca began, feeling very strange. "What about Miranda?"

Tudge snorted. "We're dating. A little. We're not going steady. And to tell the truth, Ethan hit the nail on the head. She is still a bit of a popularity junkie, and…well, I'm not really interested in someone like that. I'm interested in a woman who knows her own mind, a strong, independent _I don't give a shit about the world_ type of woman."

Veruca sighed glumly. "The very thing Gordo so vehemently accused me and Ethan of. But he sees it as a negative thing."

"I see it as a positive thing," Tudge said. "I see it as an exciting thing. Before, when you accused me of not being true to myself---"

"Oh, Tudge," Veruca said. "I didn't mean anything by that. I was just trying to get the focus off Ethan."

"Well, you peaked my interest," Tudge said. "Nobody ever challenges me anymore. Everybody likes me now because I can hit a ball a long distance and run around in circles stepping on sandbags. I need someone who will challenge me, question me, make me look at the big picture."

"Tudge, you're weird," Veruca said, shaking her head.

"Be that as it may," Tudge said with a smile, "Gordo talked a lot of trash tonight, but he did say one thing that was absolutely right on."

"Oh yeah," Veruca wondered. "And what was that?"

"That I have a thing for redheads."

Veruca felt her face turning as red as her hair. What was this she was feeling? Could Larry Tudgeman the jock really be winning her over?

Tudge kept looking at her, smiling at her, and finally he laughed a little. "So what will it be, Veruca? What do you say?"

"What do I say? I say you're crazy! Do you know what kind of trouble you'd be getting yourself into? How all your friends would react if they saw you going out with _that Goth girl_? The Goth and the Jock. Are you a masochist, or what?"

"I don't know," Larry said. "Are you? I mean, I hear some Goths are into that kind of thing."

Veruca found herself laughing. Tudge sure did have a way of making her laugh. "No," she said finally. "I'm not into that kind of thing." She sighed, thinking mometarily about Gordo. "Well, at least not usually," she amended.

"Then come on!" Tudge encouraged. "Take a chance, why don't you? Do you really want to change the world? Take the first steps into anarchy? Then go out with me, Veruca. We'll stand the world on its ear."

What Larry said did indeed make a certain amount of sense. Veruca would love nothing more than to see everybody's reaction to the Goth and the Jock. And she really did like Tudge. It wouldn't be so bad to hang out with him a little.

"But…but…" she began. "I'm going away to school soon."

"So am I."

"I'm going to Ohio State."

"I'm going to Minnesota. So what? I'm not talking about a lifelong commitment. I just thought it would be nice to go see a movie or something. What do you say?"

Veruca looked at Tudge and smiled. She could not help smiling. This had been one damn crazy night so far, and it was about to get crazier, because she could not think of any really good reason to say no. So instead she said, "Yeah. Sure, Tudge. Let's do that. Let's go see a movie or something."

After that they talked a little while longer, but soon realized they should go back in the restaurant with their friends.. "After all," Tudge said, with a wry smile, "Miranda will be wondering where I've gone."

Veruca rolled her eyes and laughed. "Tudgeman…"


	8. Chapter 8

_Here is a short chapter, and then one more after that. Reading all this over, I think it is the darkest story I have written yet. Not to say I don't like it, I love this story, I love this different, unconventional look at the LM universe. But if you are in the mood for something more lighthearted, check out my new LG in the Rated T section, The Perfect Gift. _

_-_

_- _

Larry and Veruca walked back into the restaurant together, but Veruca immediately went to her friends at the far table, where at this point she just mooched off everybody else's plate, but only a little, because with everything that was happening, she wasn't really that hungry.

All the time she talked to her friends, she had one eye still over on the other table, where she noticed without a doubt that Lizzie's sweater was ruined, and Gordo still looked as cute as ever, but in fact, most of all, she could not keep herself from glancing at Larry Tudgeman.

Was she really going to go out with him? Well, she had had a crush on him once upon a time, long ago, in fifth grade. So there must be something there…right?

She kept laughing quietly to herself. Cassandra leaned over and asked, "What's so fuckin' funny, V?" but Veruca just shrugged it off and said, "Nothing."

If she was going to do this, Cassandra was not going to be the first to know. First, she had to talk to Ethan. Ethan may not have too much in the way of school smarts, but if there was anyone she could trust for street smarts, he was the one. If there was some glaring reason why she should not go out with Larry Tudgeman, Ethan would be the first one to see it. Veruca decided that if going out with Larry Tudgeman got the Craft Seal of Approval, then it would be alright with her. And if it didn't…well, she would just deal with that possibility if she came to it.

Larry, Miranda, Lizzie and Gordo had long since left the restaurant (and only Larry gave a parting wave in her direction), but Veruca's thoughts were all on Ethan as she and her friends finally stood up to leave, some time shortly after 2am. They walked outside together, and were trying to decide who was going in whose car, when suddenly a dark figure stepped out from behind a tree and approached the group.

"Ethan!" Veruca exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him. "What are you doing here? I thought you went home."

"Never quite made it," Ethan said glumly. "And besides, I kept thinking about how I promised your mom that I would take care of you. I can't break a promise like that, to someone like your mom, who has such faith in me."

"Hey, Ethe," Kendrick said. "You and 'Ruca ride with us, okay?"

"Nah, thanks," Ethan said. "It's not so far to Rookey's house from here. I think we'll just walk."

"Okay, dude. Later. Later, 'Ruca."

Goodbyes were said all around, and Ethan and Veruca began to walk away from the group.

-

As they proceeded down the street, the night seemed to get deeper, darker, even colder. For a short while, neither said anything. Veruca wanted to run the Larry Tudgeman scenario by Ethan, but she could tell that something was not right with him. She knew if she only gave him a little while…

"Rookey?" he said finally. "You know how your mom said it would be okay if I slept over? Do you really think she meant it?"

"Ethe, my mom doesn't say something like that unless she means it. If you need a place to crash---"

"It's just…just…" He sighed heavily. "I don't want to go back to my Dad's. And I don't want to go to my Mom's either. I just want to stay with you. Do you think that would be alright?"

Veruca put her arm through his, much too aware of the sadness in his voice. "You are always welcome to stay with me, Ethe."

They walked quietly again, and now Veruca could sense that he was feeling a little better, knowing that he didn't have to deal with either of his parents, at least not for the rest of the night. After a while, as they finally turned into to the entranceway to Whispering Oaks, Ethan said, "So what happened after I left, anyway? What happened with you and Tudge?"

"Oh, yeah!" Veruca said, brightly. "It was pretty weird, actually." She told him the whole story, sparing no details, then waited for his reaction.

As suspected, he offered a hearty laugh at first. The idea of Tudge and Veruca as a couple would have to make anyone laugh, and she expected that much. What she didn't exactly expect was Ethan's reaction immediately after his laughter.

"That is so cool, Rookey! You and Tudge. Yeah, I can see it. Crazy. Crazy, like you're going to make everybody crazy, all the fuckin' little preps will be pissin' in their pants to think you've bagged the star baseball player. That stuck up snob Miranda will be so fuckin' jealous---"

"That's not why I'm doing it, Ethe. I mean, the shock value is a nice side benefit, I admit, but I wouldn't do it _just_ for shock value."

"But you really like Tudgeman, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," Veruca nodded. "Not like I like Gordo---"

"That prick!" Ethan steamed.

"You've got to lay off him," Veruca said, coming to Gordo's defense. "It's like I told you, he knows you're after Lizzie, he feels threatened. You can't blame him for feeling threatened."

"I blame him for everything!" Ethan hissed. "Him, and everybody like him!"

Veruca could see he was about to go off on an angry tangent, so she brought him back on track by saying, "But not Larry, right? He's not like the rest of them, is he?"

Ethan sighed. "No. Larry's okay, I guess. There's something about him. It's like, he's playing the game, but he knows it's a game, so he's alright. It's the rest of them that are playing the game, and they don't even know it's a game. That's what pisses me off."

"The rest of them," Veruca ventured, "Like…even Lizzie?"

Ethan sighed deeply. "Don't talk to me about Lizzie. I can't even think about Lizzie right now. My heart is breaking, it's broken. It's just…it's so…" and then words failed him and all he could say was, "Fuck!"

Veruca squeezed his arm. "Here we are," she said, as they turned up the flower-lined path to her house. "Home sweet home. Come on in, I'll let Mom know you're staying."


	9. Chapter 9

_This is the end of this story, which I have enjoyed immensely, even tho it has been so dark, much darker than I usually write. It occurred to me today that is probably because I wrote most of it in Barnes and Noble after the hurricane, when I had no electricty at home. That was a very unusual time, and also kind of uneasy and dark (literally)._

_But now I am back with a Christmas story I hope everybody has found, and the latest news is that I have decided to write a sequel. I have three days to finish my NaNo (only 5,000 words to go, yipppeeeee!) and then I will start this new story, which will also be a one shot LG fluff, the same events (and beyond) from Gordo's POV._

_Anyway, hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving, and looking forward to some happy holidays! Christy_

_-_

_- _

The house was quiet. Mrs. Albano had gone to bed, and as was her custom, Veruca tip-toed upstairs, stood outside her bedroom door and whispered, "Mom…Mom…I'm home…"

From inside the room her mother answered groggily, "That's nice, dear. Have you locked the front door?"

"Yes, it's locked. Hey, Mom, Ethan's with me. Would it be okay if he crashes on the couch?"

"Sure, honey. Just make sure he calls his folks and they know where he is, okay? I wouldn't want them to worry about him."

"Sure, Mom. Thanks. See you in the morning."

Veruca came back downstairs and saw Ethan sitting quietly in the middle of the couch. "It's okay," she said. "She just said to make sure you call your parents and let them know where you are."

Ethan brooded a moment, then said, "Let's not, and say we did."

"Ethan…come on. She doesn't want them to worry about you."

Ethan snorted. "As if that would ever happen," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Ethan, come on. It's her only condition. Just do it. If you won't do it for your parents, at least do it for my mom. You know she likes you. She believes in you, she has faith in you. Do it for her. Do it for me."

Ethan sighed and accepted Veruca's outstretched cell phone. He dialed in the dark. In a moment he said, shortly, "I'm spending the night at Rookey's. Call her house if you need me. Bye."

By the tone of his voice, it was clear he had left a message, not actually talked to either his mom or dad. "There!" he said. "Are you satisfied now? Fuckin' three o'clock in the morning and he's not even wondering where the hell I am. He's too busy fuckin' his fuckin' girlfriend. He doesn't even give a shit where I am."

Veruca sat down beside Ethan and took his hand. There was nothing she could say to make this better. There was nothing she could do but sit here beside him, and let him know that even if his parents didn't give a shit, she did.

Then suddenly Ethan said, "Rookey? Would you…would you do my hair?"

"Now?"

"Yeah. I know it's late but---"

"Yes, let's do it, Ethe," she said, jumping up. "Let's do it right now!"

They went upstairs, closed her bedroom door, and Ethan took off his shirt. Veruca changed into her old Scooby Doo pajamas, that she didn't care if they got ruined, and went right for her box of hair supplies. "I still have a lot of blue left," she announced.

"I don't want blue anymore," Ethan said with certainly. "Blue was for when I was black and blue, bruised. But I feel way past that now. Now I need red. Red for blood. Because my heart is broken, and it's bleeding. I need red. Will you do my hair in red?"

Veruca felt like she wanted to cry, hearing that his heart was broken and bleeding. How much of it was from Lizzie? How much of it was from his parents? How much of it was from life in general? As long as none of it came from her, she knew there was nothing she could do but comply, "Sure, Ethe. Let's do it in red." She didn't even make any cracks about the Bobsie Twins, whoever they were.

They went into her bright bathroom and Veruca had to stand on a stepstool to reach all his hair, carefully picking up all the blue strands and rebleaching them. As they waited for the bleach to take, they smoked another joint, but this one did not have them as jovial as earlier in the evening. If anything, they both felt more sober than ever before.

In a little while they were back in the bathroom, Veruca again on the stepstool, applying the red in thick gobs that looked like clumps of blood.

"This is good," Ethan said, looking at himself in the mirror. "This is really…really good. This is me. This is how I feel. To thine own self be true…"

Veruca looked at his reflection in the mirror. Ethan was tall, pale, yet muscular, and as much as she hated to admit it, his nipple rings were very sexy. Ethan caught her checking out his nipple rings and he had to laugh.

"You know, Rookey, it's really too bad."

"Too bad about what?" she asked his image in the mirror.

"Too bad about you and me, that it's just not there. Because if it was…if it was…we could be having so much fun right now."

Veruca smacked him. "How can you even think something like that?"

"'Cos I'm a guy!" he exclaimed, defending himself. "And I think about sex all the time. I can't help it. It's what guys do. Only I don't do it with you. Honestly. At least not usually. Only when I'm high and I'm depressed. Like now."

She smacked him again. "Well, snap out of it, Craft! Because that's not happening. I'm not risking our perfectly good friendship for some brief moment that you probably wouldn't even remember in the morning."

"And I wouldn't ask you to," Ethan said. "Besides, I know you. You're saving it, aren't you? You're saving it…for Larry Tudgeman, aren't you?"

Now she smacked him again, harder than before, and at last they were laughing, and if felt good to finally be laughing again.

Somehow, when it was all over, Veruca had red hair dye on her Scooby Doo pajamas and they were ruined, but she didn't care. She only cared that she had heard Ethan laughing again.

The laughing had felt good, but the exertion of energy seemed to suddenly bring to Veruca's mind that it was now closer to four a.m. than three a.m., and she wanted to get some sleep.

"Okay, listen, Ethe, I'm going to bed. You're on your own. When this little timer goes off, you rinse your hair out in the sink. After that, you can use the blowdryer if you want."

"It won't wake up your mom?"

"It might."

"Then I won't use it. I wouldn't want to wake your mom. She's a nice lady. I like her."

"Don't start liking her too much," Veruca reminded. "And remember, put your shirt back on when you leave my room. I don't want her seeing you like that."

"I don't think I will," Ethan said, teasing her. "In fact, I think what I'll do is walk right into your mom's room and ask her to pull on my nipple rings a bit."

"Ethan! You're sick!"

"Hey! If you can date Larry Tudgeman, why can't I have a thing with your mom? Anarchy, man! That's what it's all about!"

"Ethan, I don't know if I'm so tired I'm not hearing any of this conversation correctly, or maybe I'm dreaming already. But I'm going to sleep, and when I wake up in the morning, I expect the world to seem a lot more normal than it does right now."

Ethan tucked Veruca into bed, kissed her cheek and turned off the light. Then he went back into her brightly lit bathroom and stared at the little timer. Three minutes…two and half….it seemed to take so long. Two minutes…ninety seconds…forty five…

Counting down. Waiting for something to happen. What was he waiting for? Waiting to rinse out his hair? Waiting for Lizzie to come to her senses and love him again? Maybe he was waiting for his parents to give a shit about him. _Fuck!_ He could be waiting a long, long time.

The bell rang. He ran the water, he rinsed his hair, he scrunched it out with a big fluffy towel. Then he leaned against the bathroom counter and stared at himself in the mirror.

He wouldn't use the blowdryer. He didn't want to wake Veruca's mother. She was alright. He certainly wasn't going to ask her to pull on his nipple rings, but he wouldn't mind taking her up on her offer to crash here as often as he needed to. It was nice to have somewhere to go, somewhere where somebody's parent seemed to give a shit about him, even if it wasn't actually his parent.

He stood in the brightly lit bathroom, drowning in the silence, watching his hair dry. He still felt slightly stoned as he continued staring at his face in the mirror for some undetermined amount of time. His face was a good face, though now it was marred by a lack of sleep, and black eyeliner streaking down his cheeks. His face was also marred by an intense sadness. It hadn't always been there. How had it gotten there? And more importantly, how could he get rid of it?

He didn't know, but he did know he had plenty of time to contemplate the question as he stood here for minutes on end, watching his hair dry. Now it was nearly four thirty. He'd been standing here nearly a half hour, watching his hair dry, and he didn't have the first fucking clue how to get rid of the sadness.

But he did note with some satisfaction that he was beginning to be able to see the red in his hair. It was strong, it was vivid . It looked good. It looked true. It looked like streams of blood, dripping from his battered, broken heart.

It looked like he felt.

To thine own self be true…


End file.
